Chex in the City

I have been on Twitter for a while now, less than a year, and yet, I still haven’t found out what it’s purpose is. You post a 140 character “tweet” and people follow you so they can read yours. On Facebook, I can do basically the same thing, just without the character limit. After this short period of time, I feel like it might be time to get rid of my Twitter. Here’s why:

1. It just encourages me to procrastinate. I don’t need another method; I have plenty already. Facebook (which I will not get rid of for a variety of reasons), Sporcle (I learn stuff), crochet (it allows me to create), television, blogging (I sometimes get paid for that), and crosswords are my main vices.

2. I feel like a large portion of the tweets I receive, from both friends and strangers, are either very narcissistic OR very negative. I frankly don’t care what you are doing right now OR how awful it is.

3. I HATE when the people I follow “live-tweet” anything. The Tony’s were tonight and numerous people I follow “live-tweeted” the event. First, I didn’t get to watch the Tony’s, so I want to find a way to watch clips tomorrow, so don’t ruin it for me. Second, I don’t need all that littering up my feed. Why don’t we all just experience events, synthesize our opinions, then perhaps write them down later in an organized manner on a blog. Or we can realize that we didn’t have an opinion at all.

4. Some people don’t get Twitter. At all. I follow a celebrity, who shall remain nameless, and he/she (or his or her respective staff) re-tweet every single tweet they get directed at them. It’s weird and sometimes, it will be the only person who comes up on my feed for an hour.

5. I have decided that there is nothing so important that it NEEDS to be tweeted. If there is a disaster, run for your life. Do not stop to tweet about it. If you are getting married or having a baby (like, at this very moment), don’t tweet about it. You are doing something far more important. Twitter is there because it allows you to comment on things the minute they happen, but nothing is so important that it needs that immediate comment.

So, I think I am going to get rid of my Twitter. Stay on Twitter, don’t stay on Twitter. I really could care less. I’m not sure why I joined in the first place.

Onward and upward.

PS: How ironic that I blogged about getting rid of Twitter. Oh internet age.

This morning I came across another interesting article in the New York Times, which really got me thinking. It told the story of a Georgia teacher who gave her students almost complete control over which books they read in English class. She teaches gifted children in a school that provides free lunches to almost 80% of its students.

I have to say that I’m not sure exactly which way I’d go on this issue. I can’t protest anything that not only got some of her students reading for fun, but also gave many of them good scores on the assessment tests. She isn’t teaching to the test, but just teaching to love learning. At the same time, some of the students are still slipping through the cracks (which no teacher can prevent), and it is also allowing many of them to read what some might find to be a bit too lowbrow for school. All in all, the program should be implemented at an earlier age, say 3rd grade, continued UNTIL 7th grade, then giving a mix of choice and requirement. Perhaps lengthy reading lists would help. However, the teacher in this article is fighting an uphill battle of sorts, and she seems to be trying to make up for teachers who couldn’t instill a love of reading in the students at a younger age.

Many of the comments (I love reading comments on the New York Times…sometimes I leave them, but not this time) are either praising her for the overall goal of her program, or they are dismayed at the crumbling of American culture and how students shouldn’t be allowed to read such drivel in school. The latter need to take a chill pill. So, Americans are behind practically every other industrialized nation in education. How do you propose we help that? Forcing students to read the classics, even if they’re not really getting it? Maybe that’s how we got there in the first place. Maybe not. I have to praise any teacher who goes so above and beyond for the betterment of her students. So what if the experiment fails? (I’m pretty sure it won’t). At least she took the time to think about her students and try to find ways to make life better for them.

I had a lot of great teachers in school. Many went above and beyond for us every day, making history, literature, and *gasp* even math more fun. Perhaps I wasn’t a fan of their subject, such as 7th grade biology, but if the teacher was great, like my 7th grade biology teacher, Mr. Guisti, I will still retain the information. We dissected clams and worms, fed our praying mantises, took “rubber duckie” lab tests (which were fun rather than scary), and we all loved going to science class each day. Other teachers, such as my 7th grade geography teacher who will remain nameless, got by on the fact that he had a very lame system of teaching that you had to try to fail. To his credit, he painted this map on the wall and numbered each country to help us learn the nations of Europe and Asia (I never learned Africa in school…). However, I had him 10 years after the fall of the Berlin Wall, but he still had 2 Germany’s, former Czechoslovakia, former Yugoslavia, and few of the former Soviet nations. I did well in geography because I loved geography. I did well in science because I had a fabulous science teacher. A dedicated and creative teacher makes all the difference for a classroom full of individual students.

I would like to preface this entire entry with the fact that I am not a educational professional of any kind, with my degrees both being in American Studies. This makes me qualified, in my mind anyhow, to comment on anything that happens in America.

I read a New York Times article today, and I had some comments, and by putting them out on “the blog-o-sphere,” I’m also hoping to get some constructive feedback.

I am incredibly interested in the educational system in America, both in its successes and its flaws. To keep abreast of the newest innovations, I find the Education section of NYTimes.com to be very helpful. To those who don’t know, one can find this section under the “U.S.” section, then find the tab that says “Education.” I don’t mean to sound patronizing, but at least this way you know what you are looking for. Generally the conversation leans toward the educational scene in New York City, which is fascinating on its own. However, it also covers a number of national topics. Regardless, I’m intrigued on a daily basis.

So, I read this article today. I’ll give you a minute to read it. Fear not; it’s short. I’ll go make a sandwich.

To start, I LOVE the overall goal of the program. I think AP Exams are a way better gauge of a person’s knowledge in a certain subject and college preparedness then say, the SAT’s. SAT’s prove that you can read and do math (and only recently) write a decent essay. However, the AP Exams prove that you can think analytically and you actually know facts. Furthermore, it encourages students to begin specializing early in the subjects that they either naturally excel in, or that they find themselves interested in. By taking AP classes and the exams, one finds themselves ahead of the game once they register for college courses. For instance, I went to college with 9 credits: 3 in English writing; 3 in English literature; and 3 in U.S. history. Even if I had only taken the U.S. history exam, I would have been able to skip the introductory U.S. History courses and was able to get through more upper-level classes, as well as pursue electives that would not have been available to me otherwise. I paid $78 – 82 for each exam, and when compared with the cost of colleges and universities right now, that is quite a bargain.

My primary hope for these students is that they and their parents have the foresight to put the money aside for college or technical school, although I think it is safe to state that the majority of AP test-takers are off to a college or a university. These dire economic times have proved that Americans are not the best money managers, and with unemployment being what it is, the money the students earn might be more urgently needed somewhere else in the household right now. One cannot tell others what to do with their money, but with college costs being what they are, I hope it is being put somewhere to earn interest (and low-risk).

However, my main issue with these programs that pay students to pass these tests is that it might be teaching another, less desirable lesson. Students are rewarded for both good scores and the extra effort they put in (judged through their attendance at weekend sessions), but shouldn’t people be encouraged to do well and do the best thing without receiving monetary “bribes”? One should want to work hard and do well in all that they do, not because there is $1000 on the line, but because it is the right thing to do. I have these same argument for parents who pay their kids for good grades. Rewards are good, but are monetary rewards the most ideal? As kids, my friends and I were usually rewarded for good grades with constant encouragement, and at the end of the year, perhaps dinner at Friendly’s.

In Pennsylvania, and probably a majority of other states, it is illegal to go around without car insurance. This is fine, and I understand why that is a law. However, it is perfectly legal to go through life without health insurance. However, if one does, they risk falling far into debt and depending on the state to support them. Making health care affordable to all will save a lot of money in the future.

The Presidential election of 2008 is finally over. I feel like this was the longest election cycle EVER. Pretty much my entire senior year of college was consumed by the campaigns of Hillary Clinton, Barack Obama, John McCain, Mike Huckabee…the list goes on. I’m proud to say that even if I don’t have the most consistent record when it comes to actually voting (those absentee deadlines really snuck up on me in the spring!), I have been a supporter of Obama since he threw his name in the ring. I was lucky enough to see him in person about a month ago in Abington, PA and I was 75 feet away from the person who is now the president-elect. It was just a very exciting experience.

The media and other political analysists are saying that this election is truly historic because it is one more crack in the racial barrier in this nation. I will not contest this. I hope we see a lot more minority men and women in the political process, because frankly, as a white woman, I think I’m pretty well represented. However, this isn’t the era I’m talking about ending.

The era that I’m talking about ending has much wider implications than the election of an African American in the long run. It is the end of the era of Watergate cynicism. The actions of people within the Nixon administration tainted the political atmosphere for the last 34 years and I feel like the election of Barack Obama has let the sunshine into politics. The people who supported him had to have a crap-ton of optimism, trust me. He didn’t run a campaign full of anger and bitterness, but of what changes we can make to create a nation more like the Founding Fathers envisioned, even though they never anticipated an African American president. His supporters were “fired up and ready to go!” and spent their time chanting “Yes we can!”. His posters told us to “Hope.” We felt like our efforts and our votes actually mattered. My parents’ generation came of age during Nixon and mine is doing so during the age of Hope and Obama. In the long run, this is the greatest contribution to Presidential Politics that Obama will make. He will do great things in office, but this has ramifications that will ripple throughout history, even after the race issue is finally put to rest.

Anyone who knows me will not be surprised that I’m writing today. I’ve tortured myself every year for the last seven years on this date, and I really couldn’t tell you why.

I was 15 years old on September 11, 2001; a sophomore in high school. The year would prove to be a pretty difficult one for anyone at my high school, as the first few weeks would indicate. Approximately three weeks before, aspestos was discovered in my building, and we were to share the middle school with those students until the beginning of November. That meant that we attended classes from 7:30 until 11:30 am, and the middle schoolers went in at 11:30 until about 4:30 (they have more classes, so therefore had to be in school longer). I would have been in AP American History when the actual even began to unfold, but I did not know things were happening until computer class, when we logged on to Yahoo. No one really knew what to say when we saw the pictures. We assumed it was for a movie or something. My teacher logged on, then turned on the TV, which had no sound. We had missed the planes hitting, and he would turn it off before they fell. I’m grateful for this. My sister and mother watched the second plane hit, since they were still at home. I remained blissfully unaware of the events that were taking place until my school day ended. I was supposed to go to lunch with friends for a few girls birthdays, then volunteer with the fifth grade teachers until the end of the day. I walked across the hall from my math class to drop my bookbag off with the teachers I volunteer with, and they were horror struck watching TV. I finally realized something terrible had occurred. I asked the teachers who shared the room, both of whom I had had over my time at the school, but they directed me to my mom, who was at work in the middle school guidance office. My mom, who was understandably very upset, told me what happened. I still went to lunch, and my friends and I joked to try to come to terms with what had occurred, but I feel pretty considerable guilt when I think about it to this day.

When we returned home, my family watched TV non-stop. My parents both worked in Manhattan when I was a kid, so they feel akin to the city. We have family in North Jersey, and we had to make sure they were all alright. The only family member who was in any danger that day was my dad’s cousin, Honey, who worked in the WTC until about 3 weeks prior to the attacks, when her office was moved up-town. She still had to run away from the debris cloud, but she was fine. I did not sleep well that night, nor did my mom. It was surreal. I had trouble sleeping for a while. I have never been so frightened in my life. However, I wonder…why? I was no where near NYC when this happened. I know of no one who was killed, and only in college did I come in contact with people who did. What is my issue?

It could possibly be that this was the first event in the history of the world that happened in real time, on live TV. I can watch the footage over and over and over again, if I so choose. Things like that aren’t shown on television, even in war time anymore. I was too young to watch Challanger, although my mom was holding me on her lap when she watched it because I was about a month and a half old at the time. I was saddened by TWA 800 and Oklahoma City, which I also watched too much coverage of. However, I didn’t watch the event. I watched September 11th. Repeatedly.

The image that I cannot deal with emotionally is that of those who made the terrible decision to jump. All I can think of is the terrible moral dilemma these people had to grapple with in their final moments of life. We had already watched people die that day on the planes and in the impact zones, but now we had to watch people make the conscious decision to jump, rather than be killed another way. I’m not condemning what they did; no one knows what they would do this in this situation.

Every September I obsess myself with 9/11. I did my Honors Project on it. For two semesters. I know most of what there is to know about the event. I became “subject-verb-9/11” girl. I do not believe in conspiracy theories. We watched it happen on TV. Don’t tell me it didn’t happen the way I watched it happen. Because my brain can’t deal with what it thought it saw…I don’t think I want to know if something else was really going on. I have a book of New York Times Obituaries of the victims in New York. That gives me comfort at times, oddly enough. I cannot imagine being a family member of friend of a person who died that day. I hope those people who fall into the aforementioned category have a supportive family to hold on to, and a place to go to escape the horror every year.

I met a firefighter from Ladder 6 on Tuesday. His name is Jay Jonas and I was quite inspired by his story (how could you not be?). He was trapped on the 4th floor with 5 of his men and a civilian woman when the North Tower collapsed and they all lived. He was very stoic in speaking about the day. He is allowing 9/11 to define his life, in a way for the good. I don’t want it to define me in any way, but I think it’s going to and I’m going to have to accept it.

My heart goes out to the families and friends of the victims. They must deal with a grief that is unimaginable. I hope one day I can just let Sept. 11 go by without watching it again, or watching every program about it. For now, I’ll keep watching the history channel and writing my term paper.

Although I just returned from a relaxing, but all too short, vacation in the Outer Banks, this entry is not about said trip.

This morning I received multiple phone calls informing me of the passing of Mr. John Grady. He was the head of the Honors Program at La Salle University, an aspect of the university that garners nothing but praise. As my time at La Salle slips away from me, it is especially difficult to say good-bye to a person who was such a large part of my time there, even if it is only based on the fact that he accepted me into the program that changed my life.

Prior to the Honors Program, I only thought of grad school in a fleeting way. I talked about it with my parents and advisors, but when the students of the class of 2008 met each semester to talk with Mr. Grady about classes and our futures, suddenly grad school was underachieving. There was a whole world of achievement that I had no idea existed, and the least I could do was get my Master’s degree. I think about the people, both friends and faculty, who helped me get there, and I cannot help but include Mr. Grady in that list.

Between the passing of Dr. Kerlin, one of my beloved professors, in November and the passing of Mr. Grady just last night, I feel like the La Salle I knew only two months before is slipping away (like sand…get the title?). Granted, the buildings are still there and 95% of my professors are still teaching, but it is already changing in ways that I was not prepared for. I had no idea that my trip to the honors center to get my certificate on graduation day would probably be my very last time in the basement of McShain.

When I left high school, I was thrilled. Although I was petrified to begin my life at La Salle, I was thrilled to be out of the veritable prison that was East Pennsboro. I had friends, but I knew there was something better in Philadelphia. I still see my old teachers, but many of them have moved on. It never affected me in this way. I wish everyday that I could go back to La Salle. I probably will one day, either to teach or because I’ll be a parent of a La Salle student…maybe even to do something with the Masque. Hopefully to teach. I’m just amazed at how different it is to leave a school one spent four short years at than it was to leave the school at which I had spent 13 long years.

I know La Salle will keep changing in ways that I’m not going to be pleased with. My Masque kids will graduate…I won’t know the people on Improv anymore…Other professors will retire. I just wasn’t really ready for it to start changing so soon.

2008 is the 40th “anniversary” of 1968, in a way. The year was tumultuous, horrifying, and sealed the chasm that has existed between ‘liberals’ and ‘conservatives’ that has existed ever since. 2008 is also an odd parallel to the year 1968. Now, my generation isn’t having a Woodstock, and the counterculture isn’t as pervasive as it was then. However, we are in the middle of a war that half the country does not support. We are entering an election that will certainly be for the record books (if for no other reason, because our nation has finally nominated a candidate who isn’t a WASP (or a WASCatholic) and we strongly considered a woman). It makes a 20-something really think.

The Election

A number of years ago, when Sen. John McCain was coming into political fame, I read a number of articles about him. I was in AP Government and it was an election year, and while the Republican nominee was pretty obvious, my teacher made sure we kept abreast of all of the possible players in what would be another amazingly electric campaign year, even despite the outcome. I read about this moderate individual who had survived for years in the “Hanoi Hilton”, serving his country in the most dramatic way possible, and now was serving in the U.S. Senate. He was sponsoring bills that I thought were productive and I pretty much thought that the Senator from Arizona was pretty awesome. When I registered to vote in early 2004, I considered registering Republican for a hot second because I wanted to help McCain become president one day; however, in my heart, I knew that I was a Democrat. I followed Howard Dean exclusively for my government class, and even had to bore the embarrassment of his screaming fit in front of my class. I registered, voted in the primaries, and was on my way.

Now, I have to admit something. In the fall of 2004, I had to submit an absentee ballot because I lived in Philadelphia attending my freshman year at La Salle. I sent my request form in more than on time, but I was never sent my actual ballot. I did not get to vote in my first Presidential election, which was more disappointing than I can describe. I had been waiting to vote since the first grade, when I memorized the Presidents and told my grandma that I was going to be President. I was bummed. My candidate of choice won in PA, but would ultimately lose the election. This spring, I got lazy and didn’t get my absentee ballot. I didn’t vote in one of the most important primary of the 2008 election, and my candidate lost. He is now the presumptive nominee, but I got worried that my vote could have helped him win PA. I was disappointed in myself, and one of my two best friends at La Salle was even more disappointed in me. Because of this, I am determined to make up for this by being more politically active now that I’m at home. I will campaign for Obama in Harrisburg, where he could really use my help. And yes Michele, I will vote. I will get up early and vote at the Midway Fire Hall in Enola.

But wait? Didn’t I just say how enamored by McCain I was in 2004? This is true. I still have amazing respect for the man. He is a true American hero and deserves the respect of his country. However, I feel that he has betrayed his principles to gain the nomination of his party and will just be another Bush. The nation is a mess and we need something more. This is where Obama comes in. I have never been so energized by a candidate. I almost feel like I’m listening to a Kennedy or a Jefferson when I hear him speak. I want him to represent my nation and lead us for the next four to eight years. Yes he’s young, and perhaps he has less experience than McCain. Who cares? Looking at some of the most experienced politicians we’ve had in history (Nixon, Bush), I think inexperience might be a nice change. Remember: The most our first four Presidents had in the way of political experience was committing treason. Obama can inspire in so many ways. He pulled himself up through education and self-reliance. What’s more American then that?

I had given up my aspiration to be President shortly after my grandma passed away in 1995. At first it was because she had said she would vote for me and I wasn’t going to run if my #1 fan wasn’t going to be able to cast a ballot. However, as time wore on, I realized that the job of President is very dangerous. You can get killed and I really wasn’t up for that risk. I also didn’t realize the vast number of ways I could work in politics without being President, something that I now realize. I thank The West Wing for that. I freaking love that show and if I could grow up to be even Donna Moss, I’d be happy. Obama has also re-energized that dream for me. I want to run for public office as soon as I walk in two years at Penn State Harrisburg. I want to help with education reform, which I feel is the root of almost every domestic problem in the United States. I am born anew in the energy that he exudes and I hope that his full potential can be realized in the next few months.

I’ll be covering more of the parallels in time. I just wanted to ramble a bit about McCain and Obama and myself.

So, I survived the end of college, and frankly I did it better than anticipated. I only cried a little at Kiss the Wall. I did cry myself to sleep the first two days I was at home though. I missed A-15 and I missed sleeping with Jason. The prospect of sleeping alone was very disheartening. It still is, to be quite frank, and even though I don’t get the best quality night’s sleep when I sleep over at Jason’s now, I still prefer it to sleeping alone in my room. I still cry when I leave Philadelphia or when Jason leaves at the end of a visit home, and I never sleep the night before Jason visits, or I am going to Philly…I’m just too excited. The weirdest thing is that when I visit Jason, I demand Wawa and to get there, we have to drive through campus. I still feel like I belong there and that in a few months, I’ll go back. Part of that is probably because I haven’t really joined the Penn State community yet. I JUST got an email from my adviser (after a month of waiting) to set up an appointment to get my ID and pick classes. I’m also adjusting to living at home and trying to get out all the time. I want an apartment, but I realized that I only want it to live on my own and live with Jason, which I cannot do yet because he does not have a job here and has one in Philly.

Graduation is not at all what I was building it up to be in my last post. I think I was just doing that so I could actually get excited about it, which I never did. Double whammy.

I also recently began a new job, or an internship really. I’m working for a consulting firm in Harrisburg that does a lot of work with the government, watching bills and such for our clients. I did this 3 summers ago, after my freshman year, but it was basically office work and helping her get organized in her new digs. This year though, I am a real intern. I’ve gone to public hearings, committee meetings, press conferences, and had 2 working lunches…in two days. I work 9-5, which I love because I have hours like normal people. I hated working retail because the hours were always different (and I’m not too keen on customers either). I can also spend all my office time watching MSNBC and talking to people online, since we need my laptop in the office to get any work done if we are both there at the same time.

I have learned a few things, which I will bullet point here:

1. Always be polite. People in South Central PA respond well to it, and a please/thank you/smile combo can help people who get verbally abused all day.

2. If you have to go back and forth from the office anymore times than once between the office and the hill, DO NOT wear your heels that make your feet feel like they are on fire.

3. Ask for help. I went to a meeting today on MCare, which was waaaay over my head. It was very crowded, and a man sat next to me. He said that I looked very organized and prepared, but I told him that even after reading the summery of the bill, I had no idea what was going to be discussed, and as college has taught me, it is usually easier to take notes if you understand what is being said. So he explained everything to me. He did not patronize me, but used intelligent language and patiently answered all my questions. God bless you, 2nd floor man. (He also knows my boss and would periodically lean over and tell me “That’s important”, or “Your boss might be especially interested in that point”.)

4. Wave to your neighbors that work in the capitol. They like that.

5. Deliveries to Stallions are to be made in the rear and the left front door is for exit only. No kidding.

6. Subway apples make a great side. Also, make sure to tell the condiments lady at Subway not to drown your sub in mayo.

7. Two Brothers Pizza calls a stromboli a “boli”. I knew I had seen it SOMEWHERE.

8. Yes, you have to do it all again tomorrow.

9. Bring a sweater, even if its 80 degrees outside, because it will be -30 degrees in the Speaker Ryan Building.

10. Finally, don’t look like an intern. You don’t need to wear the suit everyday with a white shirt and sensible shoes. It makes you look like a tool. Also, don’t try too hard to not look like an intern, because then you just look silly. Wear color. Wear heels that aren’t black. Don’t look like a she-male. Don’t look like Hillary Clinton. Look like C.J., or Donna, or that cool state Senator in a wheelchair. She wore a sassy scarf today and I respect that.

Edit: Lesson 10b: On the days you have to go to the Capitol, do NOT wear your bronze heels, because the rotunda is made of cobblestone and you will trip and die. In front of the hundreds of school children who seem to be there everyday.

11. Always be early and check the committee meeting schedule every two minutes. Honestly.

Also, I forgot to mention how AMAZINGLY BEAUTIFUL the Pennsylvania Capitol Building is. If you have never made the trip to Harrisburg, you should. It’s only about an hour and 45 minutes from Philly, and after you take a tour (Weekdays: 7am to 6pm), take the 20 minute trip to Hershey. Or visit me. Or the State Museum, which I’ve taken Sara, Doug, Val, and Amy to…it’s hilariously old.

Perhaps I am up far too late this evening, but my brain got to thinking and I was just realizing that I will be done with college and college life in about two months. College has easily been the best period of my life thus far and I’m both dredding and celebrating its end.

I’m dredding the end of late night chats with my roommates in the kitchen. I’m dredding the lack of drinking on weeknights. I’m dredding the end of laughing with my friends until we’re on the floor crying, especially when we’re sober. I’ll miss watching Crosswords with Liz, doing dishes with Sara, looking at funny websites and commenting on Oprah with Michele, quoting West Wing with Jen. I’ll miss the crashing at various points on campus that I used to do, such as sleeping on the B-14 futon (pre-Stephan), the floor of Ryan’s bedroom, cuddling with Davey, George’s futon, anywhere I could find in C-71, and the multiple places that I started sleeping and never finished. I will miss eating lunch at the table and doing crosswords with Doug. Lunch will not be the same if I can’t go and get it with Kate, Megan, or Val. If I can’t make snide-side-comments to Hannah and Stephan, then to who? Little adventures to the Pocono’s, New Jersey, New York, and various other points just will not happen after May 11th. I won’t spend endless hours in the theatre getting ready for a show anymore. I’m making my last two baby books. Soon I will chant my last “ave”, my last “Gilda Radner, pray for us” and my last “We don’t suck!”. I will Kiss the Wall and leave my second family, the Masque. Kiss the Wall is the day I am dredding most of all because I fear making a fool out of myself and being too emotional. Considering how emotional I have gotten at the last 3 Kiss the Walls, I can only imagine what my own will be like.

The time at college that I will miss the most are my freshman/sophomore years, and this past summer. Living in the dorms, as shitty as it was when it actually was happening (aside from living in my Basil’s suite alone) are times I wish still happened. However, I think I’m just overly sentimental for those times and would hate to actually relive them.

I must remember though that graduation will not be all bad. Hopefully, I will be going to grad school or getting a sweet job. I will be living with the love of my life and we will start a new chapter in our relationship. I know I will be happy with Jason. I know that living together will be fantastic. I’ll get a Master’s Degree, I’ll meet new teachers, have new experiences, and *hopefully* live in a new state. I will really move out of my parent’s house and get on with my life as a whole.

Right now though, at 2:41 am on Monday, March 3, I can really only think about what is ending, not what beginnings are approaching.